June 2003

It's Summertime, and…
In spite of the nip and tuck with the weather, we've already had a great time flying Young Eagles this season. Since the beginning of the year 2003, we've added 166 kids to our Chapter's tally. Our grand total is 817. The Mansfield fly-in meeting this coming Saturday will undoubtedly add quite a few to the list. Last year, 50 Young Eagles were flown at Mansfield. If you haven't checked the youngeagles.org website lately, the national total is over 912,000, so the goal of 1,000,000 by December 17 is within reach.

I've been doing some reflecting on the Young Eagles program. My thoughts are wide ranging, starting with the reactions of the kids as I observe from the sign-up table. Sometimes their faces are so bland that I wonder if they have any appreciation for the experience of flying. Of all the kids, only a few seem to express any strong feelings one way or the other. And only a few ever seem to remember their manners enough to say thank you to anybody. But then I think about all the kids Fred and I have dealt with in various roles over the years since raising our own kids. It seems that the growing up years are a continuing process of absorbing the world around them and sorting out the relative importance of the things they encounter in life. They react readily and visibly to the more superficial things, but they quietly internalize the really important stuff. Maybe that's the way they handle the Young Eagles experience for the most part. If that's so, then that's good. It's the seed planted deeply that yields abundant fruit later on.

Another aspect that I think about is the variety of attitudes that we as EAA members have toward the program. Some members think that we are a long way from the "real purpose" of Experimental Aircraft Association, that of the homebuilding of airplanes. Well, yeah, but we can't expend all of our free time working on our projects, and we can't bring the project to a meeting or social event! And we certainly need to protect the "environment" of general aviation through good public relations so that there will be places and conditions under which to fly those projects when they are completed. Who will carry on the tradition when we are gone? There's no better way to protect our love of flying than to interest the younger generation in aviation by doing something which may influence them favorably—showing them there is a place in aviation for something other than the flying public bus transportation known as an airline. We, that is, groups like ours, above all, are the most well suited for instilling an attitude of responsibility for each other rather than the me-myself-and-I attitude that some pilots demonstrate, an attitude which always causes problems for everybody. About that thing of homebuilding, remember we did recently have a good workshop out at Mountain View about the certification of homebuilt aircraft, as well as some techniques used in building. We can do more of that in the future, too. So nothing needs to be either-or; we can do both and more. The reason we've become known as an active chapter is because our members are not narrowly focused on their own interests, but support all the interests represented by the various members of the Chapter.

Rally and Meeting at Mansfield
So, here's the schedule for Saturday, June 14, 2003: Plan to fly Young Eagles from 9:00 a.m. to 11:00 a.m. Pilots should be on hand by 8:30 a.m. as we are encouraging youngsters to arrive early for sign-up, and we will stop signing up at 10:30 a.m. If the pilots are ready to go with the first kids at 9:00, we will also know how many of you will be flying, and how many kids we can accommodate for the session. Remember, we are already in June, and the air gets rough toward the end of the scheduled time. After the Young Eagles Rally is over, we will have our business meeting, then enjoy a potluck lunch. Bring any kind of dish to share.

Coming Along Nicely The cookbooks will be ready for our first sales to the public when we are in Mansfield. It bears the title, "Celebrating 100 Years of Flight Cookbook." It's kinda neat that our first sales will be in Mansfield because many of the pictures of Andy Anderson's airplanes were taken in Mansfield, and the picture of Ron's Stearman was taken last year at our Mansfield fly-in meeting. Also, the Wright Flyer project is being built in Mansfield at Bill Ghan's home workshop. Lots of willing hands have been doing the mundane work of proofreading the cookbooks and assembling them for binding. Sharon Vaughn has devoted many hours to the preparation for printing, the printing itself, and the binding. Of course, Mike didn't just disappear during all of this. The cookbooks are $10 each. Those of us who have read the books that Jim Tausworthe has published so far have become addicted to his delightful writing style and can't wait for more. Currently, we have copies of Gods of the Pylon and Voodoo'd, each priced at $15 a copy. Tickets for the raffle of the Wright Flyer model will be available soon, too.

The Next Big Step
The Wright Flyer project is entering a new phase and needs some willing learners. Yes, learners. Because Bill Ghan will teach you how to do it, if you are willing to do rib stitching. Apparently it's becoming a lost art. So let's assemble a class group and learn the art as we cover the wings, canard, and rudder with fabric. If you can come on Wednesday afternoons, please let Bill know so he can plan on how much in the way of supplies to have ready. Call him at (417) 924-8818.

We Were Busy in May
The May meeting that had been planned as a "tailgate meeting" at the Poplar Bluff air show turned into a serious nuts-and-bolts planning meeting in Ron's hangar because of a little thing called weather. Those who went to Poplar Bluff mostly did it the day before. The rest were a bit hesitant to try it on the day of. However, not willing to let the day go to waste, those folks sat down and took stock. We heard the air show in Poplar Bluff went on as planned and we missed having a great time cheering Clint on.

As a result of the meeting, we have the place of the September meeting set at John Smith's hangar at the "Smith Aerodrome" in Mountain Grove, followed by a Young Eagles Rally for Pioneer Days later in the month in Mountain View, then the Young Eagles Rally in Gainesville in conjunction with Hootin' n' Hollarin'. The October meeting will be at Willow Springs, with a Young Eagles Rally for the Food and Forest Festival. Two months haven't been settled for place and activities yet—they are July and August. It is generally agreed we should do something at Ava to let it be known there is interest in the airport there, even though the city government always seems to drop the ball. Recent reports are that the gates are usually found locked. Does anybody have any suggestions? We also have November open, but by then we've usually been forced indoors, so we have elections for the next year's officers. December is reserved for the Christmas dinner.

We had a second Young Eagles Rally in May at Mountain Grove. It was a very successful day when 39 kids from Mountain Grove Christian Academy were flown. Just as at Houston, we had a very narrow weather window in which to complete the Rally, and it went smoothly. The parents came prepared to be good spectators, complete with their lawn chairs.

(Left) Bob Brantley answers a mother's questions; (middle) parents as spectators; (right) Robert Harshman hands certificates to Young Eagles.

Ben Hurtt was unable to fly because of work commitments, so we added Henny Christensen to the ranks of Young Eagles pilots. She flew the Piper Archer II. The other pilots were Mike Vaughn (Cessna 172) and Dan Gilbert (Cessna 182). They all did a great job.

Our ground crew was Bill Ghan and Robert Harshman. They also did a great job forming the kids into ride groups, performing preflights, and communicating with the "desk," so that all requirements were met and the certificates ready by the time each group returned from their flight.

Although not officially a Chapter function, many of the members enjoyed celebrating one day of the Memorial Day weekend at the picnic at Taus River Ranch. It was a warm and relaxing day when we could enjoy visiting. Jim and Millie said later that they had around 75 people sign the guestbook and it was remarkable the distances that some had traveled. Several people who belong to their ultralight group came down from St. Louis. What a difference a year makes. Last year, you may remember, the picnic was far into the planning when a little quirk of nature intervened. This year, you could hardly tell the quirk ever happened.

A few of the Chapter members who enjoyed Jim and Millie's hospitality at Taus River Ranch, including the cooking team of Tom and Charlie.

Our Friend Booley
Some people always seem to come under the Lord's protection…

There old Booley was, big as life, pullin' that wagon up the sidewalk, headed for that big hill over on Sycamore.

It didn't have nothin' in it, he was just pulling it along, grinning, the wind blowing at his loose shaggy hair, whistling through that wide gap between his two front teeth.
I fell in behind him. "Whatcha gonna do with the Flyer, Booley?" I asked.

He half turned, still grinning, his eyes all squinched up, happy-like, "I got me an idea, Arnold boy! A real mind blower, this time!" He tugged at the wagon behind him.

An' I guess that's what I liked best about old Booley. He had lotsa ideas. I think maybe it was just the genius in him bustin' to get out! I had to run to keep up. It made my mouth dry, runnin' up the hill that way. My mouth was like cotton. I looked at the wagon he was pulling. "I bet it'll hold lotsa beer!" I said.

Booley stopped. "I swear, Arnold! Don't you never think of nuthin' but beer?"

I kicked at a rock and looked away. "Girls," I said. "I think a lots about girls, about them wavin' and hollerin' and huggin' and squeezin' while I'm climbing that ladder to fame. But so far, I ain't had much luck with either! I guess that's why I drink lotsa beer!"

Booley's eyes squinched up in that grin again. "Well, they for dogged sure will after this, Arnold boy! I ain't pullin' this here old red wagon up this hill for nothing!" He shook his head. "No, siree! I'm doing it for you!" He turned and started up the hill again, pulling at the wagon. "You don't know it, Arnold, but this here little red wagon is gonna make you famous!" He whistled real smug-like through the wide gap in his teeth, glancing over at me. "Now just what do you think about that, Arnold Peabody?"

"I think my mouth's gettin' dry, Booley," I said, finally reaching the top of the hill, wishing I had myself a big, cold beer.

Booley, he stopped, turned that old red Flyer around on the sidewalk and aimed it down the thin ribbon of concrete that paralleled the street.

"Get in, Arnold boy." He looked at me.

I stared at the rickety old wagon that Booley had been pulling and then let my gaze shift to the long steep incline with all them big old sycamore trees huggin' the sidewalk.

"Well now, Arnold, I got to calculate the speed! I can't go lickety-splittin' down no hill with a wagon tongue in one hand and a computer in the other…"

Right then, I knew that old Booley was going to try it again. Fly, I mean. Anyways, that was yesterday. I picked up the beer that sat on Booley's work bench and tasted it. It had gone flat with age. I drank it anyway, then limped over to the cooler and got me a fresh one.

Booley looked at my bandaged foot, then shoved the bent wheel that he had been straightening back onto the strange looking wagon. He stood up.

"Well, whatta you think, Arnold? Did you ever see such a sight in your whole life?"

I drank half the beer down without taking it from my lips. Tears flooded my eyes. I had to agree with him. "'At's really sumpin', Booley!" I agreed. "You know, I can't never remember seeing me a wagon that's done sprouted wings before."

"Yeah," Booley grinned and his eyes squinched up. "And neither has lotsa other folks. But they will! Because in just a few minutes, ever'body in town is going to come a runnin' outta their houses, and they gonna be lookin' up, pointin', going wild hollering and a shoutin', and you know what they're gonna be saying, Arnold, all them young girls? They gonna be sayin', 'Why ain't that old Arnold Peabody flyin' around up there again? My, my, ain't he smart to do a thing like that!' Yeah," old Booley said, sucking air through his two front teeth, the way he always did when he was happy about something. "I tell you, Arnold, you gonna really be famous, this time!"

I finished the beer and tossed the empty at the trash can. Booley went to the cooler. "Here," he offered, "let me get you another one, Arnold boy! No sense in you walking around on that sore foot." He shook his head. "That was one right nasty fall you took yesterday, hittin' that big old sycamore tree the way you did!"

I took the beer that Booley handed me, then pointed at the machine that he had made.

"You sure this thing'll fly, Booley? She don't seem none too wholesome to me!"

Booley picked up his hammer and drove another nail through the plywood wing, bending its point over after it had gone through the metal frame of the wagon. "You just leave the engineering to me, Arnold boy. All you got to do is just sit up there and wave to them pretty girls when you zoom past."

I chug-a-lugged the fresh beer and my foot felt some better, but not a lot. Booley got a fresh six-pack from the cooler and he sat it in the wagon bed, then he picked up the wagon tongue and began pulling the machine out of his shop, heading toward the sidewalk that led up the long, steep hill over on Sycamore Street.

Painfully, I hobbled along behind, occasionally reaching for one more of the beers that Booley had brought along for the trip. At the top of the hill, I sat down on the curb and rested. I opened the last beer and listened as it gurgled down my throat. For some reason, my foot felt good. In fact, it felt better now than it did before that old red Flyer hit that tree at the bottom of the hill! I rested my chin in the palm of my hand, staring first at the flying wagon and then letting my gaze fall upon the steep incline. My head swam a little and the curb felt a little unsteady.

"We'll use the street this time, Arnold boy. We don't want you hittin' no more sycamores again," he tying me securely inside with a frayed piece of rope that he had found beside the road. Then he fished an old pair of welding goggles out of his hip pocket and squared them over my eyes. "All you got to remember, Arnold, is to just keep her centered right straight down the middle of the road, then when you get to the bottom of the hill, where the red light is, you just zoom right up and keep goin' 'till you reach the sky!" He was getting excited now.

It was dark in here, inside these dark welding goggles. I felt him slap my face lightly. "Arnold? You in there Arnold boy?" He looked inside my goggles. "You won't forget to zoom now, will you?"

I belched and finished the beer. "Zoom!" I said. "Zoom! Zoom!"

Booley put my hands on the tongue of the wagon, then yanked the rope starter of the old lawn mower engine. The steel blade glistened and came to life and the wagon shook and things began to blur. I felt the mass of plywood and metal begin to move and I could hear old Booley running after me, shouting and laughing. "You gonna be famous, Arnold boy! This time you gonna really be famous! Don't forget to zoom now!"

"Zoom!" I belched again, clutching at the wagon's tongue. "Zoom!" That old wagon vibrated and bounced and shook again as we headed down that steep old hill on Sycamore Street, heading straight for that red traffic light. An' if old Booley timed it right with that computer of his, why, I'd hit that old light green and fly right up to the sky with all them young girls yelling and wavin' and screamin' an' just waitin' to hug me to their bosoms!

"Zoom!" I hollered right loud. "Zoom zoom, ZOOM!"

Buzz Thunderbee by Squawk
Arnold Boy, I have just the weather forecaster for you…his name is Buzz Thunderbee. You won't go wrong with him on your team, no siree!

See you all at the meeting in Mansfield!

June Meeting Announcement